


All Your Roads Lead Back to Me

by errizabesu



Series: Our Place in the Universe [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Iwaizumi realizing things, Kinda, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Canon, Prequel, Romance, and yearning for Oikawa, but not too gory I swear, just kinda angsty, mentions of past accidents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errizabesu/pseuds/errizabesu
Summary: There are lots of things Hajime wanted to tell Tooru.You’re beautiful, being one of them, andI think I love youis another but the one that finally came out of his mouth isI’m applying to a university in Tokyo.Or, the three times Iwaizumi wanted to tell Oikawa he loves him and the one time he finally does."He's too proud to admit it, and perhaps you too. But you know what, Iwaizumi-kun, if you don't stop Tooru, he'll just keep running."





	All Your Roads Lead Back to Me

**Author's Note:**

> \- Since Oikawa’s sister is a significant side-character, I thought I should make things clear. When I write Oikawa it refers to Tooru, his sister will always be called by her given name  
> \- I published this before under a different title, but I wasn't satisfied with the story so I rewrote it and added more since this is a prequel for a longer series I have in mind :)

Injuries aren’t rare in sports and unfortunately, neither are career-ending injuries.

Oikawa came close once. He was still in second year junior high when he messed up a jump serve and badly injuring his already worked up knees.

It happened so fast, probably just a blink of an eye but every time Iwaizumi recalls the memory, it always goes in slow motion. Iwaizumi remembers the absence of rubber soles squeaking against the court following a serve. He doesn’t recall hearing the sound of a ball piercing through the court, because there is none. Instead, there is an off-sounding thud and followed with a bounce that isn’t supposed to be there. There was a gasp and it caught Iwaizumi’s attention from across the court. Iwaizumi remembers seeing Oikawa’s shocked expression. So he missed the serve, big deal, that’s the point of practice. But then Oikawa’s eyes widen in both disbelief and pain.

Oikawa’s visibly struggling to keep his balance. His legs bent and trebling hard as his face became stiffer. Iwaizumi remembers seeing the exact moment pain overtook Oikawa’s nerves, immediate and intense as their setter falls to the ground—gracefully, despite the way his face shows agony, because somehow every move Oikawa makes while on court is the embodiment of grace.

“Oikawa!” someone yelled. Tachibana? Miyamizu? A third-year? Iwaizumi’s not sure. It doesn’t matter anyways, because his only concern is Oikawa who is tumbling like a tree being cut down.

Iwaizumi was the one who first responded, yelling to his team to get the coach as he sprints across the gym, but he wasn’t the first to reach Oikawa’s side as much as he wants to. He was beaten by their third-year captain who was currently on the same side of the court as Oikawa when it happened. The captain tried to break Oikawa’s fall, only to fail miserably because Oikawa tumbles with a loud thud and a painful cry. The captain tried to get Oikawa to sit up, earning not a grunt or a hiss but a full out scream instead. Iwaizumi has heard Oikawa yell before, but only to get their team pumped, not in pain. Noticing that Oikawa cannot sit up nor straighten his right leg, the captain concludes that they will need to get Oikawa to a hospital.

When Iwaizumi reached Oikawa’s side, taking their captain’s place as he rushes to inform a teacher, Oikawa was in too much pain to offer him even a glance. He angrily yells when Iwaizumi forces Oikawa to at least rest his head on Iwaizumi’s lap. Oikawa clenched onto Iwaizumi’s shirt like his life depends on it. He tugs it whenever his leg makes even the slightest move and he tears up every now and then because being in his current position for too long is uncomfortable but his knee is immobilizing him.

“You’re gonna be okay, Tooru. Everything’s gonna be okay," Iwaizumi assured. Any other time Iwaizumi would run his hands along Oikawa's light brown hair, try to soothe him and distract him from the pain, but there’s too much eyes around them and the last thing Iwaizumi wants is his team throwing judgemental glances in his and Oikawa’s direction. Oikawa’s lying on his back, his head resting on Iwaizumi’s lap with an arm covering the upper half of his face and his injured leg bent as he cannot move an inch without pain striking up his spine. Oikawa switches between hissing and whimpering, both in pain, and his cheeks are covered with stains of both dried sweat and tears.

Oikawa wheezes and somewhere along his gasps for air, Oikawa calls out for Iwaizumi.

 _Hajime_ , Oikawa whimpers, _help me Hajime it hurts, it hurts so much_. Not vocal enough for the rest of the team to hear, but at the right volume for Iwaizumi to hear and identify the helplessness in it. Iwaizumi responded by yelling at every first-year in sight, abusing his authority as senpai to make them get their coach arrive faster, because he definitely isn’t going to leave Oikawa’s side, not at his current state.

A lot changed after the incident. One being the white knee support Oikawa has to wear if he wishes to continue practicing the sport. Two is the new rule implemented in Kitagawa Daiichi's school gym: no practice without supervision. Three is Oikawa’s training ethics. He’s still ferocious, more ambitious but at the same time more intelligent. His bedridden days after the surgery was filled with books on nutrition for athletes and volleyball technique books. The weeks when he still needed crutches he spent consulting here and there, basically everywhere, for training regimes and gameplay strategies. Oikawa may not be standing on court, but he is practicing. He may not be a genius, but he is efficient. And the accident that almost ended Oikawa’s volleyball career even before it began may have prevented him from participating in competitions in his second year, but it forcefully made him an efficient player. One that turns disadvantages into weapons.

And lastly, the biggest change Iwaizumi noticed after the incident, is the way he sees Oikawa. He realized that the reason he strives to keep up with Oikawa isn’t just to secure a starting position in their team, but to be the one who spikes Oikawa’s toss and to be the one he high-fives when they score. Iwaizumi realized that the reason seeing Oikawa badly injured scares him isn’t because he’s worried of Oikawa’s athletic career, but of losing sight of Oikawa’s smile whenever they’re playing their favourite sport.

More importantly, Iwaizumi realized that maybe, just maybe, the unnamed feelings he has harboured for Oikawa all this time, is love.

 

* * *

 

The name on Iwaizumi’s phone display is one he hasn’t seen in a very long time. It dazzled Iwaizumi and he hesitated before answering.

 _Oikawa_ , it reads. But not _Tooru_.

“Airi-san,” Iwaizumi finally picks up. He stands from his desk and walks away to a quieter place. “It’s been a while.”

Even if the caller ID says Oikawa Tooru instead of Oikawa Airi, Iwaizumi would still hesitate before answering.

“Hello Iwa-kun,” the voice that follows is soft, well-mannered, not in any way childish unlike her younger sibling. “Yes, it has been quite a while. How are things?”

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi answers absentmindedly. “Everything’s fine.”

“Are you still in Tokyo?” Airi asked. “I think you mentioned a training program or something.”

“Yes, that’s right. I was in Sapporo last year for mandatory recruit training but I’m back in Tokyo again.”

“Does that mean you got the job?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi answered. It’s actually old news and normally the Oikawa family would be one of the first to know aside from his own family, but circumstances made it impossible.

“Good for you,” Airi says, too quick and very off character.

Iwaizumi sensed the urgency in her voice, and in the call in general. The last time Iwaizumi got a call from Oikawa’s sister was when she asked him to come home to Miyagi for Tooru’s surprise birthday party and to congratulate him for making it to the men’s national team. It was four years ago, if Iwaizumi remembers correctly. Iwaizumi didn’t immediately answer that time, not with mid-terms around the corner and project papers due. But now, years later, he’s grateful he did.

Iwaizumi’s suspicion is proven right as Airi continues hesitantly, “Iwa-kun, I—I need your help.”

That summer four years ago, Iwaizumi made the right decision by clearing his weekend and spend extra money for express train tickets to his home town. He stayed for one night only, taking the earliest train available on Saturday and returned with the last train on Sunday evening. If only Iwaizumi knew what lies ahead he would have stayed longer—screw mid-terms.

“What is it?” Iwaizumi asks in haste. His heartbeat immediately paces. With the trebling in her voice and her sudden call, Iwaizumi can only imagine negative outcomes.

“It’s Tooru.”

Of course, it’s Tooru, as if Airi would call Iwaizumi for any other reason.

“What of Tooru?” Iwaizumi pushes.

“I can’t reach him,” Airi sounded like she could cry any second, and Iwaizumi understands, he really does. Because for the last two years, he too has been trying to contact Oikawa.

 

* * *

 

 

Oikawa Tooru has a habit of disappearing. Airi can tolerate his quirk better than Iwaizumi does. She said it’s because he often gets lost in his own head. It happened a lot when they were kids; like the time Oikawa walks absentmindedly after school with his eyes glued to the sky and his feet following a weird shaped cloud. He couldn’t find his way back after that, and after having the neighbors help, he returned home with tear drenched eyes and a grumbling empty stomach. Or that other time he was so eager to catch a bigger stag beetle than the one Iwaizumi has but ends up walking too deep into the forest. Luckily that time, Iwaizumi found him before night falls and they kept it a secret because Oikawa’s overprotective parents would go gaga if they ever find out. As years go by and friendships grow, Iwaizumi developed a sense of retrieving Oikawa after his unfortunate solo adventures.

So, when Oikawa is nowhere to be seen on the day of Spring High Prelim finals, it was Iwaizumi’s instinct that drove him to head for Sendai City Gymnasium.

The third years are relieved of club activities, mostly because of their bitter defeat, unfortunately, but instead of catching up studies, they’re too concentrated on their club group chat all because Yahaba invited the team for free food and drinks; bless his family’s catering business. Iwaizumi had only agreed to come, without joining the hustle-bustle and continued his learning. So, when he checks his phone an hour later, greeted with 462 new messages with none from Oikawa, he immediately knew the former captain is up to something.

And Iwaizumi is proven right. Sometimes he’s scared how accurate his instincts can be when it comes to Tooru.

Oikawa wasn’t anywhere in the crowds, Iwaizumi learned that after scanning the gymnasium for a whole half hour. Oikawa placed himself at the back rows, far from distracting cheers of both teams. He had his legs up the bench, both arms tightly hugging his knees as he rests his chin on top. Sometimes he lowers his neck even more, burying his face into his arms. His eyes, hidden behind the half-rimmed glasses that makes his flock of fangirls go nuts, is sharp as they always are whenever their owner is focusing on a game—be it watching or actual playing. Oikawa lets out light gasps at good moves and slightly nods as he always does whenever he intends to memorize a certain technique their opponents use. His eyes sparkle at almost-impossible saves and insane serves, as they always do whenever his head is caught in a game. However, there is another light present, somewhere in between those black pupils and gold-brown irises. If Iwaizumi hadn’t known Oikawa all his life, he would say it’s heartbreak.

Or maybe it is.

Who knows what Oikawa’s holding underneath those tongue-sticking smiles and back pats and peace signs. After years of intense training, heaps of practice matches, literally working his knees into a brace and still not enough to bring his team to nationals, not even once, whatever is going on in Oikawa’s mind at the moment cannot be unicorns and rainbows. So maybe it is indeed heartbreak.

When Iwaizumi showed himself he earned a panicky jump from Oikawa. He immediately pushes the sorrow present in his eyes and Iwaizumi acted like he didn’t notice the change. They watched the game, make a couple comments and analyze movements. Oikawa would throw snarky remarks once in a while in which Iwaizumi replies with his own angry replies. They left just after Karasuno scored their final point. It’s debatable whether they leave quickly because Mattsun won’t stop texting Iwaizumi, demanding him and Oikawa to show up, or because watching Karasuno receive their medal is still too much for their wounded pride to bear.

“Are you trying to kidnap me, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks when Iwaizumi drags him to the train station instead of the bus stop back to their school.

“Idiot,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “Did you not check your phone?”

Oikawa shakes his head, “It keep getting notifications so I turned it off.”

Iwaizumi throws an annoyed glance, “That’s the point of smartphones.”

“Just tell me you’re not trying to sell me to the black market!” Oikawa whines. But he follows Iwaizumi regardless.

“Yahaba’s place,” Iwaizumi says. Mid-walking, Iwaizumi shows Oikawa their heap of group chat messages, “Free food.”

Oikawa snarls, “Free food is for _celebrations_.”

Iwaizumi pushes Oikawa through the ticket gate, ignoring the bitterness in his voice.

“I didn’t even get to devour Ushiwaka’s glorious defeat since he’s an expressionless robot, what is to celebrate honestly— “

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi cuts off as he throws a side glance.

Oikawa looks up and saw the look Iwaizumi is giving him. It lacks the usual Grinch-like glare that Iwaizumi uses whenever he has to deal with Oikawa (and the other third years’) childish antics. Instead, it is the look of someone who _understands_.

“That’s enough,” Iwaizumi adds rather softly remembering they’re in a busy train station.

Oikawa bit his lower lips in response. They’re good friends, childhood friends, they’ve reached the point where they don’t need full sentences to communicate. As Iwaizumi’s gaze pierce through the fort Oikawa built around in defense, Oikawa felt the need to drop his guard and just be himself. His bitter, sad, defeated self. He’s not Aobajosai’s captain at the moment, there is no need to keep up the fort. Admitting defeat is a terrible feeling, so is being vulnerable, but Oikawa knows it’s going to be alright. Because he isn’t alone, Iwaizumi’s here and he isn’t going anywhere.

Oikawa’s lips form a broken smile as he follows Iwaizumi through the crowded train station. He stood close enough but his hand still finds its way to tug at the end of Iwaizumi’s jeans jacket. Iwaizumi lets out a small smile, one not visible to Oikawa. They shared no more words as they got in their train and claimed an empty seat. With Oikawa is leaning slightly to Iwaizumi’s side and his head hanging low, Iwaizumi can only imagine what kind of expression Oikawa is wearing. Probably not pretty since the wounds of their defeat is still fresh. But Iwaizumi is somehow relieved, because at least Oikawa can collect himself before showing up in front of the team again.

Oikawa kneads his hands together, harshly. He scoots even closer to Iwaizumi’s side, either to hide his face or to seek comfort the other never fails to offer.

“Are you alright?” Iwaizumi asked. He carefully takes Oikawa’s hand into his and stop Oikawa from hurting himself.

Oikawa welcomed Iwaizumi’s hand. His grip felt desperate, like he’s about to drown and Iwaizumi’s hand is the only thing keeping him afloat. Iwaizumi used his thumb to brush the back of Oikawa’s hand, hoping it will soothe him.

“I will be,” Oikawa answered very slow, very timid, and not at all like his usual self.

But Iwaizumi is relieved, because he doesn’t want Oikawa to be his usual self. He doesn’t want Oikawa to keep that tiring fort up and he wants Oikawa to know that it’s okay to be sad and angry and devastated.

“Thank you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispers.

 _Sure_ , Iwaizumi would have answered. But Oikawa leans closer and rests his head onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder, sending chills up Iwaizumi’s spine and overcoming him with a feeling he’s been harboring for years now.

Any other timing, it would have been the perfect set for a confession. Their train is as good as empty and there is minimum space between them. Iwaizumi wanted to wrap his other hand around Oikawa’s shoulder, to pull him even closer into his hug and shield him from the bitter reality that is their defeat. Iwaizumi wanted to feel Oikawa’s hair on his face, to run his fingers through the light brown locks. Iwaizumi wanted to plant a kiss on Oikawa’s forehead, his cheek, his eyebrows, his nose, his lips, he wanted to kiss the sadness away and tell him that he is loved regardless. Iwaizumi wanted to offer his captain more support and his childhood friend more comfort, but he didn’t. Iwaizumi decides, what Oikawa needs now is the vice-captain to hold him on his feet. Everything else can wait—his feelings can wait, Iwaizumi’s urge to hug Oikawa’s shattered pieces back together and kiss the sadness away can wait.

 _Maybe tomorrow_ , Iwaizumi tells himself.

 

* * *

 

 

“The last we heard from him was four days ago. Mother reminded him about visiting our grandparents next weekend. Tooru replied but that was it,” Airi says. “We haven’t heard anything else from him ever since.”

 _Well consider yourself lucky_ , Iwaizumi wanted to say as his own bitterness gets over his common sense.

“Iwa-kun,” Airi continues slowly in realization of Iwaizumi’s lack of response. “Iwa-kun, I understand if you’re upset—“

“That’s putting things lightly,” Iwaizumi cuts off. “I haven’t heard from him in two years, Airi, two whole years.”

Airi lets out a whimper, half held back but still audible. “Iwa-kun I am deeply sorry about how things end up. But please, I beg of you, can we save this argument for later? After we get a hold on Tooru.”

Iwaizumi sighs. Him and Airi has always been the ones getting the short end of the stick whenever Oikawa does as he will. However this time, Iwaizumi felt the urgency in her voice, so maybe something really did happen.

 

* * *

 

 

There are three times Iwaizumi got close to letting Oikawa know of his feelings.

One was on their way to Yahaba’s house after watching Karasuno soar their way to nationals. Second was just few weeks later, amid their crazy study sessions and extra classes.

Oikawa asked Iwaizumi to join him for a session of spontaneous volleyball practice, just to make sure they’re still in shape and to get their minds off math formulas and chemical compounds. They had the gymnasium to themselves, being former captain does have its perks. Their series of jump serves and spikes only lasted for half an hour as they’re exhausted from all the studying, but instead of directly heading home, Oikawa looked up to the clear night sky and is drawn by its vastness.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Iwaizumi asked. Although he noticed Oikawa’s peculiar tendency to look at clouds and stars since their childhood days, only now Iwaizumi has the initiative to ask.

“It’s soothing,” Oikawa answered. “It reminds me how small humans are compared to the open universe we have yet to explore.”

Iwaizumi joined Oikawa by the terrace of their school gym. Seeing he has company, Oikawa leaned on his back and used his hands to cushion his head, allowing him a better view of the night sky. They really should go home. It’s late and they still have homework. But after a while Iwaizumi decided to follow, although, instead of mesmerized by the stars, he was more drawn into the person lying beside him.

“And here I thought you were reminiscing the place you came from,” Iwaizumi said in deadpan.

Oikawa blinked fast, then it hits him, “Did you just imply I fell from heaven?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi answered with no hesitation. “Like Lucifer did.”

Oikawa’s jaw dropped open, “Mean! Bad Iwa-chan, bad! I was having a moment and you ruined it, bad!”

Oikawa turned to his side in protest and by that he missed the accomplished laugh on Iwa’s face. He folded his arms across his chest and curl his legs up in fetal position, even more emphasizing the giant man-baby he is.

“If you stay like that you won’t be able to see the stars,” Iwaizumi said. In which Oikawa responds with a growl. Any other time Iwaizumi wouldn’t give in to Oikawa’s antics, tonight is different. They’re weeks away from final exams and university entry tests, this might be their last chance of getting sweet solitude without school pressure getting in the way.

Iwaizumi turned aside as well, now facing Oikawa’s back, and starts drawing patterns on his upper arm.

“Hey Tooru—“

Before Iwaizumi has the chance to finish, Oikawa turns and lies on his back again. His face is rather grim but it was quickly hidden as Oikawa reveals his face again.

Oikawa knows. He knows that Iwaizumi will call him by his first name whenever they need to talk a serious talk. So in defense, Oikawa points up the sky, “Did you know that the nearest star to earth is four million _million_ kilometers away? That’s about 270 thousand times the distance between the earth and sun.”

Iwaizumi sighs slowly but still audible to Oikawa’s sharp ears. Oikawa turns to face Iwaizumi and saw Iwaizumi nodding his head, “Yeah, it’s in our physics book too.”

“And somewhere out there, a star is either dying or being born. It would have been a magnificent view,” Oikawa ponders. He turns to face the sky again. “We’re born too soon for space travel.”

Of all the times Iwaizumi accompanied Oikawa in his sky-gazing sessions, only now they talk of what lies up there instead of just bugging each other or lie in complete silence.

“Did you know that we’re made of stardust?” Iwaizumi asked. He has his eyes gazing up the clear, night sky again as Oikawa turns to face him instead. “Not figuratively, but literally.”

“Don’t bullshit me, you know I’m gullible,” Oikawa threatened.

Iwaizumi gave out a mocking chuckle. Gullible, as if. Iwaizumi then throws Oikawa a side glance and despite his snarky remarks, his eyes show adoration, like the whole idea mesmerizes him. “I’m not lying, I read it somewhere,” Iwaizumi said. “Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand.”

Oikawa held his breath and reached his right hand up as if trying to touch the stars.

“To think that we are made of the same material as luminous spheres of burning plasma held together by its own gravity,” at this point Iwaizumi cannot hold his smile. “The fact that we are made of stars, that really is the most poetic thing I know about science.”

 _Who are you and what have you done to my Iwa-chan_.

“To think that anyone can make science sound poetic,” Oikawa said instead. As much as he likes riling up Iwa, he has a gut feeling saying he shouldn’t. Not with the way Iwa’s gaze looks focused but lost at the same time. “To think it came from you of all people.”

Okay, maybe Oikawa can’t fully drop the teasing. Because what is Oikawa Tooru if not a pain in Iwaizumi’s neck.

 _Shut up you piece of trash_.

But it never came. Instead, Iwaizumi shifted aside and aimed his intense gaze towards Oikawa’s cheerful ones. Their faces are still flushed red after a round of individual training. They still wear their Aobajousai tracksuit with pride whenever they’re off regular school hours. Their breath leaves slight puffs as the temperature drops the deeper they are into the night. And Iwaizumi wished he could just stay like this forever.

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi breathes out.

But of course he couldn’t stay like this forever. They have school, exams, and a future waiting to be planned.

There are lots of things Iwaizumi wanted to tell Oikawa. _You’re beautiful_ , being one of them, and _I think I love you_ is another. With Iwaizumi emphasizing his name, Oikawa knew something is changing, something big and possibly scary that it’s enough to make Iwa feel the need to tie them down this serious atmosphere.

“I’m applying to a university in Tokyo.”

Iwaizumi didn’t want to face Oikawa as he said those words, but he does. He’s afraid that if he sees the way Oikawa’s eyes shine and his lips smile, he would chicken out of his heavy decision. Oikawa didn’t immediately respond. He looks confused with brows furrow and his head slightly tilted to the side. His mouth opens to sound a protest but then he understood what Iwaizumi meant. Oikawa’s eyes then widen as reality struck him and the whole of it pains Iwaizumi.

“Say something, Tooru,” Iwa pleaded.

 _Why would you leave me_ , but Oikawa doesn’t want to sound clingy.

 _Good riddance_ , but Oikawa doesn’t want to treat this like a joke.

“I wish you well,” Oikawa said after a long pause and finally regaining his composure. But his usual cheeky grin is absent and Oikawa Tooru incomplete without his tongue-stuck out grin. “You’re not playing anymore, then?”

Iwaizumi shook his head, “I’m not going pro, if that’s what you mean.”

Oikawa turns his body and faces up the clear night sky again, “Is it because Spring High Prelims— “

“No, not at all!” Iwa sounded a harsh protest. He took offence in Oikawa’s words. If anything, their loss against Karasuno made him want to play even more, grow even more, and become stronger. “There are other things I want to do with my life, aside from volleyball.”

“Is that so,” Oikawa muttered. “And here I thought I know everything there is to know about you.”

“If it makes you feel better, I never told anyone,” Iwaizumi offered his piece of mind. “I’ve never even given it a serious thought until we started career counseling.”

Iwaizumi is never one to wear his heart on his sleeve neither does he intend to. But graduation is coming up, which means huge, drastic changes—life deciding changes, and Iwaizumi feels that if anyone deserves to know beforehand it is Tooru.

“This isn’t some _I got dumped so I need a fresh start_ kind of crap, right?” Oikawa asked with his voice pitching high like his usual self. “Because if it is just show me the jerkass and I’ll kick their sorry butts. How dare you break Iwa-chan’s heart, how freaking dare you waste this fine human being.”

Iwaizumi laughed genuinely and the response brought a smile onto Oikawa’s face as well.

“How about you?” Iwaizumi turned the focus of the conversation. “I know you’re going pro but are you applying to university as well?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa answered. “The physical education department in Sendai is pretty famous. Perhaps I can get in.”

“What happened to concentrating on crushing Ushijima at national level?”

“Oh, that’s still on my to-do list,” Oikawa chirped. “I just think it’s best if I do both studies and professional athletic career. That way, I can find a job when I’m older, coach some high school club perhaps. Besides, it’s not like I’m guaranteed a spot in the national team. If I make it through tryouts, then I would reconsider my activities.”

“You can always take breaks between semesters, you know. Some universities allow that, especially if you’re in the freaking national team.”

“Let’s hope so,” Oikawa said. “But first things first, we gotta pass the entrance exams. Oh man, my last mock exam results were satisfactory.”

“Ah, right,” Iwaizumi is reminded of their current situation; under a lot of academic pressure.

They drowned in silence once again. This time Iwaizumi is the one gazing the stars while Oikawa is distracted by his companion.

“Why Tokyo?” Oikawa voiced the question stuck in his throat ever since Iwaizumi’s announcement.

“The university is good,” Iwaizumi answered without offering Oikawa his attention. He knew Oikawa would ask and he’s both flattered and pained.

“So is the one in Sendai,” Oikawa said. Of course, Oikawa would suggest Sendai, the one city he’s applying to.

“They don’t offer the program I want,” Iwaizumi reveals heavily.

“I see,” Oikawa simply responded.

Then silence. Not the comfortable kind which they both often share.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa called. His face still heads up towards the open sky as Iwa turns to him and responds with a silent _hmm_. Oikawa is about to say something, Iwa is sure of it. The side of Oikawa’s lips twitched but instead of voicing whatever he has in mind, Oikawa covers his eyes with one arm and bites his lower lip. Iwaizumi would have sat up straight to check on Oikawa if the other hadn’t call his name with a shaky voice, “Hajime—“

The terrace is dim lighted and Oikawa had an arm hiding half of his face. However, it ceases to stop Iwaizumi from noticing what’s going on.

When they were little Oikawa used to cry a lot. He’d cry over his favorite anime coming to an end, when he forgot his lunch box at home, when Iwaizumi caught a bigger stag beetle than he did. But never when he’s older. So, when Iwaizumi saw droplets roll down the side of Oikawa’s face, ones that his arm failed to hold, Iwaizumi knew Oikawa has been handed too much all at once. Seijoh lost at Spring High quarterfinals, crushing their hopes of going to nationals. Oikawa lost his dream and now he’s losing his childhood friend.

“Come here,” Iwa said as he turns aside and slips an arm under Oikawa’s neck. Oikawa hides his face in Iwaizumi’s chest and Iwaizumi positions himself to wrap Oikawa into his arms. Because god forbid anyone seeing the great Oikawa Tooru in his current state, anyone aside from Iwaizumi that is.

“Please don’t cry,” Iwaizumi said gently. However, he felt Oikawa shaking his head and muttering something in the lines of _I’m not crying you are_. Iwaizumi chuckled, “Is it because we lost to Karasuno or because I’m leaving?”

“Because we lost,” Oikawa answered in muffled voice. Neither options were good for Oikawa’s worthless pride, but he decided that the first option does less damage than admitting that Hajime’s leave hurts him. “If anything, I’m glad you’re leaving, your face pisses me off.”

Iwaizumi blatantly laughed at Oikawa’s answer. He’s so, so used to Oikawa’s defense mechanism. So Iwaizumi responded by running his hand up and down Oikawa’s back while the other lightly pats his nape. Iwa took a deep breath and buries his nose in Oikawa’s light brown hair.

“You really are the worst,” Iwaizumi said, instead of the _Tooru, I think I love you_ stuck in his throat.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hmm you’re looking for Oikawa-sensei huh.”

 _Sensei_. The honorific caught Iwaizumi off guard. It’s not senpai, but sensei, meaning this skinny sweat-drenched boy probably in his late teenage years sees Oikawa as his teacher and not just a senior.

“I’m sorry, you just missed him,” the boy informs. “He was here a while ago but I guess he went back early.”

Iwaizumi cannot decide what shocks him even more; Oikawa being referred to as sensei or Oikawa being here, in Tokyo, all this time and he knows close to nothing about it.

“He’s been doing that often lately,” the boy recalls. “I wonder if everything’s okay.”

Well, most likely no, the fact that Airi asked Iwaizumi to check on him says a lot.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Iwaizumi snaps out of his perplexity. “What’s he doing here? I thought Oikawa left the team after— “

Iwaizumi couldn’t finish his sentence. It brings too many unwanted memories. The boy too lets out a grim expression, signaling that he knows what Iwaizumi is thinking. It’s not a surprise he does, assuming the boy is a trainee player for the men’s national team.

“He’s currently assistant coach,” the boy answers despite not hearing the whole of Iwaizumi’s question. “Not officially, but us trainees like to think that he is. Coach Irino said sensei lacks experience to be an official coach but he has strong sense of game and he brings out the best of each player, so having him around brings nothing but advantages.”

Ah yes, Aobajosai’s star setter surely lives up to his fame. Even though Oikawa never got invited to fancy training camps like Ushijima or Kageyama did, he has his own way of sharpening his true potential. Mainly through discipline and practice, also from being a good observer.

“Which is kinda why we call him sensei instead of coach,” the boy chuckles. “He likes being called sensei, although he’d rather jump off a cliff rather than admitting it.”

Iwaizumi didn’t stay long after that. Under different circumstances Iwaizumi would force the boy to spill more beans, especially of Oikawa’s antiques. Have they changed at all since high school? Does he still stick his tongue when he smiles or make peace-signs ever so often? Does he still let out his high-pitched whines every time his serves are a miss? How does he lift his trainees’ spirits? Is it any way like how he used to during high school? But Iwaizumi didn’t, because none of it matters until Iwaizumi can get a hold on the said man himself.

 

* * *

 

 

There is a saying; the faster you rise, the harder you fall.

It’s true to some extent, for most cases, but Oikawa isn’t like most people. He never was and never will be. Having the privilege of spending a whole childhood together, Iwaizumi can tell for certain that Oikawa has never been at the same level as anyone their age group. Not in a prodigious sense like Kageyama, but in his own dedicated way. Oikawa has willpower second to no one. He has passion to achieve his goals. He rises in his own tempo; constantly, not exponentially.

Oikawa rose, but not fast. It took him years to polish his unique sense of game play. And even more years to perfect his fearsome jump serve. He fought with teeth and nails and every drop of blood for a chance to stand in nationals; a dream that will never become reality. He tried out for the men’s national team two or three times before finally, _finally_ made the shortlist and even with his level of experience and stamina and skills, he needed a year before getting the chance to fill in as the team’s setter.

They say the faster you rise, the harder you fall. Oikawa didn’t rise fast, but he fell hard regardless.

 

Following high school, Oikawa attended university in Sendai. He chose physical education to accommodate his passion for sports and as the same time he trains for his own professional athletic career, sometimes in Sendai City Gymnasium and other times in Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium. It was very stressful, to say the least. Oikawa had to keep up with his studies and constantly travel to Tokyo for joint practices. At first Oikawa would call Iwaizumi to tell (or nag, depends on the content) him about his assignments for university and how difficult practice is on professional scale. He felt like he’s the stupidest, slowest, and most useless person on court (which is hard to imagine, since Oikawa has been the shining star in every school he attended). His stories brought Iwaizumi to worry. Iwaizumi knows exactly what Oikawa would do and it is practice, practice, practice. That is how he made it this far.

Unlike high school or junior high school, Iwaizumi is not there to drag Oikawa out of his practice frenzy. He’s not there to shove food in his throat or to pin him down and force him to get some rest. Iwaizumi can only imagine how Oikawa lets himself drown in practice. If it were in Sendai, Iwaizumi can let his worries take a break since Airi would be the one to call if he fails to get his sorry ass home before midnight. It’s the practices in Tokyo Iwaizumi’s worried about. Even though he too is in Tokyo, albeit for university instead of volleyball practice, the city is too big and hectic for Iwaizumi to babysit Oikawa like he used to. Most nights Iwaizumi tells himself he’s being too attached on Oikawa. He would remind himself that Oikawa, despite his beautiful face and prima donna-like demeanor, is a grown man who can and should take care of himself.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

Two years after joining the men’s national team, Oikawa Tooru met an accident; an actual accident involving heavy rain and a car going above the speed limit.

Oikawa was running late after a heavy practice set in Tokyo. He’d usually take the last train back to Sendai but tonight, he needs to be back at least two hours earlier to catch a paper deadline. Unfortunately, his professors weren’t too keen on Oikawa’s constant absence for trainings or practice matches in national level.

It was raining hard and Oikawa waited nervously for the crossing light to turn green. As it does, Oikawa rushed to the other end of the street. He was supposed to reach the subway station only thirty seconds before the underground metro takes him to Tokyo central station. He was supposed to jump on his express train departing from track number 7 back to Sendai. Instead, a speeding car failed to properly stop and skids all the way through the traffic lights, through the cross road, taking Oikawa with its move.

“I’m here,” Iwaizumi breathes out. He’s soaking wet after sprinting through the rain, the same rain that prevented Oikawa from seeing the car’s inability to stop in time. Iwaizumi’s chest feels tight and his vision blurs as he scans the hospital foyer for directions.

“Is he there? Is he alright?” Airi’s voice cracks through the call. Iwaizumi can hear her asking her husband to drive faster before Iwaizumi takes his phone out of his hearing range. Concentrate, Iwaizumi needs to concentrate and Airi panicking is not going to help.

Iwaizumi doesn’t let himself a break as he stumbles to the nearest receptionist. “Oikawa—Tooru,” Iwaizumi wheezes. “I was told he’s brought here after an accident.”

Instead of wasting time and effort to ask him to calm down (which Iwaizumi clearly can’t), the receptionist lady types the name into her computer. The ten seconds it took for the registry to spit out Oikawa’s name felt like forever. Like Oikawa could slip away in those mere seconds—which he _could_ , without knowing what state Oikawa’s in everything is a possibility. The realization scares Iwaizumi and he used the fear to force his tired legs to run through the directions the receptionist showed him.

By the time Iwaizumi reached the emergency room, he is completely out of breath. His chest races up and down as an attempt to get the oxygen his lungs are demanding and his legs tremble after being forced to its limit. If anyone in his high school volleyball team could see the state he is in now, they would strip him off his ace title. Iwaizumi has just the amount of strength left to storm in, to push the heavy double doors and immediately locate Oikawa.

The ER is not as hectic as he thought it would be, which relieves and scares him at the same time. Why isn’t there a commotion? Is it because he’s overreacting to the call that tells him that Oikawa’s taken to Tokyo Takanawa Hospital and the beautiful bastard was only sprained or what not? Or is it because the commotion is over and they _lost_?

Neither of Iwaizumi’s thoughts were true. Ignoring the curious stares thrown in his direction, Iwaizumi spotted Oikawa in one section of the emergency room.

“I have him,” Iwaizumi says to his phone, the call has been ignored for a while Iwaizumi isn’t sure if Airi’s still there.

“And?” Airi asks timidly, scared of the answer but needs to know the state of her younger brother.

“He’s—“ Iwaizumi isn’t sure. He takes a step closer to Oikawa’s unconscious figure. The headrest of the bed he’s placed in is raised so that Oikawa is in a semi-upright sitting position. Oikawa’s face, despite having scratches and bruises at the side, is not covered by bandages. He looks pale, as anyone would after going through an accident. His light brown locks that used to sway in every direction possible is damp with pieces of debris here and there, confirming that he was brought down to the ground.

“He’s alright,” Iwaizumi says in hopes it will ease Airi of her agony. He probably succeeded as he heard Airi lets out a breathless _oh thank god_ over the phone. “It’s alright, Tooru’s fine, everything is going to be alright.”

Iwaizumi’s words are true only to some extent. Oikawa doesn’t look like he’s in a life-threatening state, but as Iwaizumi’s eyes trail down his motionless figure, he knows that the aftermath is enough to jeopardize Oikawa’s professional career.

Oikawa is still wearing his own clothes; the men’s national team tracksuit with its jacket unzipped and a turquoise Aobajohsai shirt that he wears out of sentiment. They’re wet and mudded, dirtying the pristine white sheet of the hospital bed. Oikawa’s shirt is cut open at the side, revealing the heavy bruise along his right rib cage and bandage holding a blue cold compress pack in place. Iwaizumi cringed at the sight, not just because of the horrible color contrasting Oikawa’s skin but more because of Oikawa’s ruined Seijoh shirt—he’s going to be furious when he wakes up. More scratches, the most visible ones are on his right arm and Iwaizumi can only imagine that’s the side Oikawa landed after being knocked off his feet. Lastly, and probably the most concerning, is the state of his right leg. Oikawa’s legs is the only part of his body that is covered by a thin blanket but it does little to nothing to hide the obvious swelling and the way it is twisted in the wrong direction.

A doctor approaches Iwaizumi and signals him that he needs a word.

“Listen, Airi-san, I’m not leaving until you arrive. I’ll watch over him so you don’t have to worry, alright? Come soon, but please drive safely. I’m going to speak to the doctor now, but you have to be here to make the decisions, you hear me?” Iwaizumi doesn’t wait for Airi’s response. He turns his phone down and faces the doctor already by his side.

“You’re his emergency contact?” the doctor asks.

Iwaizumi nods.

“Family?”

“No, he’s—“ Iwaizumi deliberately pauses. “A close friend. We grew up in the same neighborhood and our families are close, but I live here now, for university.”

The doctor doesn’t seem pleased at the answer and Iwaizumi can only guess that they need to discuss matters with Oikawa’s family. And fast.

“His condition is stable despite his injuries. We cleaned the external wounds, so infection is not a problem. His fractured ribs are causing extreme pain which is why we gave him high dosage painkillers,” the doctor starts anyways. He paused to turn his eyes from Iwaizumi to Oikawa. “However—“

Aside from two broken ribs, the accident also fractured Oikawa’s hip bone and tore a significant number of ligaments around his right leg. With Oikawa’s history of sport injuries and knee braces, the excess force brought more damage than it normally would.

“We need to get him into surgery to prevent future complications,” the doctor informs. “But it has to be decided by a family member.”

Iwaizumi turns to Oikawa in both desperation and pitifulness.

“His sister is on her way,” Iwaizumi informs.

The doctor nods. “You can stay, but I doubt he’ll wake up.”

“That’s okay,” Iwaizumi says. He runs his hands down his face, “I just need to know that he’s going to be alright.”

On one hand, yes, Tooru is alright. It’s not like he’s at the brink of dying. But at the same time, he’s not. Not with another injury on top of his previous ones from years of volleyball practice. The doctor leaves and pulls a curtain to separate them from the rest of the ER, granting them a bit of privacy.

Amazing how life drifts you apart, far from the people you thought you can never live without. Oikawa often calls and sometimes Iwaizumi does, but that’s all there ever is. They’re both at the time of their lives where everything is crucial for their future and neither of them is backing down. Iwaizumi always thought they’d see each other again somewhere during Christmas break or finally meet up for dinner after Oikawa’s schedule practice and Iwaizumi’s group assignment is done—not in a hospital emergency room, and definitely not with one of them lying unconscious.

Iwaizumi looks down to Oikawa’s motionless figure. He reaches for Oikawa’s uninjured arm and squeezes his hand. Iwaizumi rests his elbows beside while cupping the hand in between his own. Suddenly, his composure crumbles. Iwaizumi felt a wave of relief and agony rushing, mixing together. He’s relieved, glad that at the very least Oikawa isn’t dying. Distressed, because of how close he was to losing him. And confused—because Iwaizumi always thought he’s over his feelings for Oikawa, apparently he isn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

Airi’s grip on her phone tightens. She knew this day will eventually come, a day where Iwaizumi found out and demands for answers. She just never thought that she will be caught in the middle.

“Answer me, Airi-san,” Iwaizumi demands. His voice low and clear, and Airi knows for sure that’s his serious voice tone.

“I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I’m so sorry, Iwaizumi-kun. It’s just that… things were difficult and we’d do anything to get Tooru back up, unfortunately he asked us not to tell you of his whereabouts.”

Iwaizumi grew silent, not even his breath is heard through the phone.

“I didn’t know what got into him and I was afraid to ask, I didn’t want to upset him,” Airi continues. “I regret that decision, Iwa-kun, I really do. I’ve known you for so long and I’ve seen you two together, I should have known better than help Tooru cut ties with you.”

“And two years later, when Tooru is the one cutting ties, you have the audacity to ask for my help,” Iwaizumi says, finally showing his disappointment.

“Iwaizumi-kun,” Airi takes a deep breath. “I don’t deny my wrongdoings, but please, can we save the argument for later? After we hear from Tooru?”

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath.

“Please,” Airi repeats in earnest. “I know this is unfair, but I cannot imagine asking anyone else this favor.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Iwaizumi came to visit Oikawa in the hospital, three days after his second surgery, it never came to his mind that this is the last time he’ll get to see Oikawa for a long time.

Oikawa is sleeping when Iwaizumi arrived. He’s still under heavy sedatives because of his fractured ribs. The room is filled with flower bouquets and get well soon balloons. He looks peaceful, with golden sunshine making its way through the window and highlighting the soft features of his face, even though Iwaizumi knows he’s far from it.

Iwaizumi drops his backpack full of books for today’s classes by his feet and claims an empty seat beside Oikawa’s bed. Airi is supposed to be here, if Iwaizumi remembers correctly, but she is nowhere to be seen. Iwaizumi takes the chance to ruffle Oikawa’s hair. He smiles even though his chest aches seeing Oikawa in his current state.

“You’ve always been such a pain in the ass,” Iwaizumi says with his fingers still playing with Oikawa’s hair. “But this is a bit too far, don’t you agree?”

Of course, Oikawa cease to respond. Any other time, he would probably throw a sassy remark or two.

“Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi murmurs his favorite nickname. He pats the top of Oikawa’s head, gently twirling his finger among his light brown locks before settling by his cheek. “Tooru.”

Iwaizumi pokes his cheek a couple times, hoping for an exaggerated respond like he used to get back in their high school days, but there is none. Even if Oikawa wasn’t under the influence of painkillers, Iwaizumi is certain he still won’t get a response.

Chances are, Tooru won’t be able to play volleyball anymore.

The state of his knees was not perfect to begin with, not after continuous harsh trainings he underwent since grade school. He’s had sport injuries before, one even made him wear a knee brace if he wants to stand in court. The accident, which has nothing to do with volleyball, is the Shinigami’s scythe to his athletic career. It would take him months to be allowed back in court, that is if he doesn’t lose his game. All those years of training and practicing, washed away within a blink of an eye.

“Oh, Iwaizumi-kun,” Airi appears at the door. “Had I known you’re coming I would have bought more food.”

“It’s alright,” Iwaizumi says. “I had leftovers for breakfast.”

“Sad, sad life of a broke college student. I don’t miss it at all,” Airi teases. She digs into her plastic bag and shoves a pack of milk bread to Iwaizumi’s chest. “Don’t tell Tooru I gave them to you.”

Airi heads to the other side of Oikawa’s bed. She places her plastic bag to the side and decides to sip her coffee first while it’s still hot. Iwaizumi silently eats the bread she gave him, which he assumes was originally bought for Tooru. His attention fails to leave Oikawa’s figure and at some point, he heard Airi chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“You two are,” Airi says. She shared the smile with Tooru as well, “I witnessed both of grow up from annoying brats to ferocious athletes. I see you two fight and bicker and annoy the hell out of each other but at the end of the day, you’re the one who stays by his side, aren’t you?”

Iwaizumi scoffs. He rolls his eyes as if trying to deny the obvious fact.

“You know Iwaizumi-kun,” Airi calls, a lot softer this time. “If you don’t stop Tooru, he’ll just keep running.”

Iwaizumi keeps his silence but his eyes slightly widen. It felt like Airi is presenting an idea that he’s been trying to ignore.

“He’s too proud to admit it, and perhaps you too,” Airi continues. She pauses before adding quickly, “Or maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe I read too many boys love in my teenage years that it clouded my fair judgement now. But if I’m not, please think about it.”

“You’re not mistaken,” Iwaizumi admits very slowly, more to himself rather than to Airi. “But it’s complicated, we—“

“I understand,” Airi says just before Iwaizumi’s voice break, it’s like she’s doing him a favor. “I’m not asking you to do something right here right now. I meant my words as a reminder, because sometimes we all need a little push, a sprinkle of faith.”

Airi’s phone vibrated. She stands from her seat to get the call. As she reaches Iwaizumi’s side, she pauses to turn her attention and offers a comforting smile, “One day, someday, when you think the time is right, do tell him.”

Iwaizumi acted like her words meant nothing. Admitting his feelings to himself is one thing, having other people pointing it out is another. Thank goodness Airi doesn’t take joy in bugging Iwaizumi the way Tooru does. The eldest Oikawa sibling takes her call and from what Iwaizumi can hear, it’s her father needing information for paper work regarding Oikawa’s transfer.

Two surgeries from the best orthopaedical surgeon in the nation is not enough to fix Oikawa’s leg, he needs one more surgery to install fixators to stabilize his bones and painful months of rehabilitation in a sports clinic overseas. That’s speaking from physical recovery alone. Iwaizumi wonders if anyone has told Oikawa that he cannot play volleyball anymore, whether the national team has officially announced his unfortunate retirement from the team, and he wonders how the hell Oikawa is supposed to take it all in. It hurts even him, and he’s not the one having to face it all.

“Hey Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, almost breathlessly. He rests his elbows on the side of the bed, cups Oikawa’s hand in his own, and hold their hands close to his forehead. Oikawa looks so fragile from where Iwaizumi is sitting, and it doesn’t suit him one bit. Oikawa is ferocious, fearless, and alive. He is annoying and loud and heavens dear, Iwaizumi loves him.

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and probably struggles to stop himself from breaking down. He _can’t_ break down. He’s not the one whose future has been taken away by a speeding car. He’s not the one who needs surgery and rehabilitation to stand on both legs. He’s not the one who will need titanium internal fixators to keep his bones in one piece.

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi repeats. He unconsciously squeezes Oikawa’s hand harder as he continues, “I’m in love with you.”

Iwaizumi brings Oikawa’s hands closer to his face and lands a careful kiss on the back. “Later, when you’re feeling better, when you’re awake, I will say it again, alright? I’ll tell you honestly, properly, and wholeheartedly.”

Iwaizumi tucks Oikawa’s hand back under the hospital’s white blanket. “And you can accept my feelings, or decline it, or obnoxiously laugh in my face like you always do. I just need you to know, I need to tell you. So please, Tooru, come back soon, yeah?”

He takes his time to capture the curvature of Oikawa’s facial features, the beauty and grace that shapes him. Iwaizumi reminisces the smiles that used to spread on that face, the grin that tickles his nerves, the cheers of victory they used to share back in the time when they fight for the same team and Iwaizumi hopes from the deepest corner of his heart, prays to any god willing to hear, and wishes to every deity in this world for Oikawa to be able to wear those smiles again despite the bitter reality that’s been forced into him.


End file.
